


A Solitary Pearl

by Lobelia321



Category: Napoleonic Era RPF
Genre: Battle Of Waterloo, Gen, Harry Grauling (original character), Historical, King's German Legion, Napoleonic Wars, Quatre Bras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobelia321/pseuds/Lobelia321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of battle, Harry finds a pearl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Solitary Pearl

Heinrich Grauling, known to all of his friends as 'Harry', frowned at the single pearl in front of him.

Three things were odd about this pearl. First, that it was without its mates. And it had once had mates. Harry rolled it between his fingers and brought it close to his eyes. A hole had been bored through the pearl's centre, thin enough for a wire filament, the kind used to thread necklaces. Second, the pearl was, even in its solitary state, probably worth more than Harry's entire annual stipend in the service of His Majesty George the Third. But thirdly and most importantly, the pearl was streaked in mud and blood because Harry had picked it up from a battlefield outside Quatre Bras.

Corpses, yes. Writhing horses, very well. Torn uniforms, abandoned bayonets, broken muskets, smashed helmets -- all of this was to be expected in the fields of Flanders. A natural pearl from the coasts of Barbados or the West Indies? Half-buried in the mess, tossed up from its burial place by the churned-up ground?

Now this was very unusual.

"Very unusual, indeed," murmured Harry in English.

He was always murmuring in English these days. Born and bred in Celle, with his mother tongue a broad Lower Saxon and the language of his education High German, but now that he was part of the King's German Legion he had been assiduously practising his army's tongue, even when on his own. There was nobody to reply to his observation, and nobody to see him study the pearl, polish it on his coat sleeve and, after some moments, pocketing it.

Harry then dropped to his knees and patted the ground for the rest of the necklace. He moved aside a torn flag, a smashed rifle, a boot without its owner; his hands got covered in muck and blood. But of course it was hopeless. Needle in a haystack and worse. It was a miracle he'd even spotted this one lone pearl.

"Here is a mystery indeed," murmured Harry and straightened.

Harry was supposed to report back to his commanding officer; the troops were apparently assembling to march in the direction of some farm house or other; clouds gathered; drums sounded from beyond the hill.

Yet it was not Napoleon or Waterloo that Harry Grauling was pondering. He was entirely preoccupied with the mystery of the pearl.

He was going to get to the bottom of this puzzle. Come what may.

THE END  
(possibly to be continued...)  
25.8.15


End file.
